Back To Town

We held a civilised discussion on the issues of the day with our friendly shark shaped prisoner. He recounted the tale of the taking of the sacrificial child seven years previously. It seemed that the cult had fallen on hard times ever since, what with the almost being wiped out by maniacal witch hunters. The deity worshipped by the survivors seemed unconcerned at the depletion of its followers, who with our timely assistance now numbered precisely one.

He also had a lengthy tome relating the story of the cult, which our literary expert thief decided to read. After all, the sole surviving cult member did not hold that title for very long thanks to dwarvish assistance. The book suggested that the child had in fact been involved in a ceremony unrelated to matters sacrificial. Born to a cultist, we could only speculate what the true purpose of the ceremony could have been. The cult had also it seemed, heard the reports of the child’s recent emergence and had been interested in the recovery of their lost progeny.

We contemplated this as we returned to the city, enjoying several more days of fascinating accounts of swamp life from our trusty guide. Our next job was to follow up a lead that would take us to the Jolly Boatman, an establishment of little repute where we might track down one Jurgen Baier, a mysterious figure who had been interested in the child.*

*Reports that he worked for Wickes part time, remained unconfirmed

Our research at the Jolly Boatman took us to an old abandoned coopers, but our guide proved merely to be a swindler out for a fast buck.* The building was abandoned and clearly not home to anyone any time recently let alone our quarry, though it did provide a useful quiet corner for the interrogation that we would conduct on our next potential source of information.

*or possibly schilling

A little more aggressive research was called for and we kidnapped (with a little Larry induced sleepiness) the next patron at the Boatman who tried to trade information for our services in certain dubious enterprises.* Our questioning revealed the probability that our target was already dead: A member of the sewer watch and petty thief seemed to be his (slightly contradictory) means of passing the time, but now time had passed him after he attempted a heist on a local gang of hoodlums named the Hounds, who ran a gambling operation out of Crab Lane.

*The old ‘I think my friend’s had a little too much to drink’ ploy. Never fails.

We decided after such a lengthy absence that it was time to report back to the boss, and we tracked back across town to find our esteemed leader, that paragon of virtue, with an unblemished record of devoted service to the cause, loyalty to the Emperor, dedication to the cause of righteousness, honesty, outstanding commitment, all in all a perfect role model of unquestioned character and commanding integrity.

But we discovered that our noble General had been arrested, caught up apparently in the scandal of the Lustrian expedition swindle, news of which we had heard from every corner of the city as we returned. Apparently large numbers of investors/ speculators/ suckers had been ruined investing in the shares on the basis of false information, and purchasers had been rounded up for questioning* including our Lord, who had been found bearing the somewhat damning letter that we had helpfully supplied him with only the previous week.

*Those who had not taken advantage of Marienburg’s many picturesque canals by jumping into them laden with heavy weights.

So we carried out a little research into the legal system, the thief through his informal contacts with the somewhat more nefarious elements of society, the rest of us through more formal legal channels. In both cases and at some expense*, we discovered that the boss might be lucky and get away with 20 years, and there was little hope of any kind of rescue, lacking as we did the ten thousand heavily armed men and significant wizard support necessary for such an undertaking.

* The lawyers Dewey Cheetham and Howe charged us ten crowns, the thieves guild who were just as helpful, nothing. What does that tell you?

Even an audience would not be easy, and the risk would be our own arrest as associates. We decided therefore reluctantly to abandon our benefactor and mentor to his fate, at least for the moment, and we would instead investigate the hounds before pursuing the crusade to the Empire. We hoped that Baier’s interest had been to discover some kind of weapon against the child’s charms. We also discovered that Baier had been a scholar of some sort, but one fallen on hard times apparently brought on by a drink problem. Curiouser and curiouser.

Paying a visit to Crab Street we met with the Hounds and actually managed to purchase the belongings of the late alcoholic. Furthermore, we escaped with no drinking contests, losses of huge quantities of cash or indeed the spilling of blood of any kind. Some kind of record?* Amongst the pathetic possessions we acquired: A map showing a burned out bakery and a prominent X a few streets away. Never ones to turn down an obvious cliché, we realised at once that our next objective was set.

*It’s possible that the GM was still tired after considerable birthday related over indulgence over the past two days.